


one of our longshots paid off

by makemadej (santamonicayachtclub)



Series: leave the light on [2]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Cock Slapping, Dirty Talk, F/M, First Time, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-02
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:27:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/santamonicayachtclub/pseuds/makemadej
Summary: The etiquette of this whole situation is pretty much an oddly specific roulette wheel.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I wrote a thing that turned out to be longer than planned! All the down and dirty stuff happens in chapter two, but it does finally happen!
> 
> Title is from "Longshot" by Catfish and the Bottlemen, which I listened to on repeat while writing this fic and is now its anthem. And in case anyone's interested, all of the polyamory resources are real.

In the world of media production, as with the world of illicit online hookups, timing is everything.

Ryan’s sense of it is usually pretty on point. 

It’s not his fault Shane has a way of throwing things off.

“Are you sore?”

“From sleeping on that shitty air mattress? Surprisingly, not really.”

“No, you idiot, I mean from banging yourself stupid a couple nights ago.”

Shane’s head whips around so fast Ryan practically hears tires screeching. “Ryan. You can’t just inquire about the state of someone’s anus on a public plane.”

He does, Ryan has to admit, have a point. He just isn’t going to admit it out loud. “Why not?”

Shane is actually stealing furtive glances around them, as if that’s going to scream discretion to any of their fellow passengers. “Because!”

He’s clearly rattled and Ryan is kind of enjoying himself. “Can I inquire about it once we’re back home?”

Shane looks into his face. “Is that a fucking line?”

“Depends if it’s working.”

Shane doesn’t answer, but his cheeks are tellingly pink. “Oh hey, um, Sara wants to know if you’re free for dinner.” 

“Sure,” Ryan says automatically, with much more calmness than he actually feels. Sara’s been part of this slow-moving disaster since the beginning, so of course it makes sense for all three of them to have a chat about a few things. It’s only logical, but it sends a wave of tension through Ryan’s nerves anyway.

“And yeah,” Shane adds, a smirk toying at the edges of his lips. “A little, but it was worth it.”

“You can’t just pencil me in for dinner with your girlfriend and then jump back to discussing the state of your butt,” Ryan protests. He tries to mimic Shane’s indignation from earlier, but it falls spectacularly flat.

Shane stretches his legs out as much as he can without jostling the seat in front of him. It could be Ryan’s imagination, but it feels like Shane lets their thighs press together a little longer than necessary. He isn’t expecting the little rush of adrenaline that gives him, but he doesn’t hate it either. “Pal, I have a feeling we’re gonna be discussing the state of more than just that later.”

“What, is Sara gonna serve up some juicy icebreakers?”

A faux-pensive look crosses Shane’s face, the same one he employs whenever he’s pretending to give Ryan’s supernatural theories serious thought. “I think the ice is broken, so we’re gonna jump straight to the juice.”

 _This is it,_ Ryan’s mind informs him with great solemnity. _This is the improbably charming-ass ostrich-looking motherfucker you want to climb like a tree._

“I’m okay with that,” he says out loud. “You’ve been thirsty for a while now, might as well treat yourself to a nice big swig.”

He fully expects Shane to leer at him theatrically, maybe waggle his eyebrows.

Instead he gives a self-deprecating chuckle, eyes lowering. “I really have. Sorry.” 

There’s a smile edging at the corner of his mouth and he sounds so vulnerable in that moment Ryan wants to do something cheesy, like hold his hand.

“Don’t be sorry,” says Ryan.

He shifts, manspreading as much as he can in the window seat of a plane, lets their legs rest flush with each other from hip to knee. 

Shane doesn’t shift away.

* * *

The etiquette of this whole situation is pretty much an oddly specific roulette wheel. 

Ever since he got home from the airport, Ryan has been engulfed in a cloud of anxiety that’s probably visible from space. Weirdly, it hadn’t kicked in at all while he was around Shane, maybe because Shane was so clearly trying to keep his own nerves in check and it would’ve just been rude for Ryan to one-up him.

If he were prepping to meet someone from online, this would be so much easier. But this is Shane, this is over four years of friendship on the line, this is possibly the biggest personal and professional crossroads Ryan will ever be at in his life. Shane might drive him up the wall on a regular basis, but he can’t imagine not having that anymore.

Back when they were still learning each other, Ryan had been both excited and jittery about being paired up with Shane for Unsolved. They were two ends of the spectrum, Ryan with his perpetual cocktail of enthusiasm and neuroses, Shane fearless enough to let spiders crawl into his mouth and chill enough to run around in a cheerleader’s uniform without a hint of embarrassment. They also got along like a house on fire, but it was hard not to bond with a dude once you’d been through everything from snake massages to rock climbing together.

And if Ryan let his thoughts drift a little beyond the realms of Test Friends-ship every now and again, that was his business. Shane was lanky and witty and an unqualified expert at both riling Ryan up and settling him down, and he happened to have an elegant set of hands on him Ryan sometimes indulgently allowed to slip into his fantasies. The more time they spent with each other, the more Shane’s hands started to bring other parts of Shane along for the ride, but no one else ever needed to know about that.

Especially when Shane suddenly went off the market. Not that he was ever _in_ Ryan’s particular market. But still. 

He’d seen it happen, back when he only knew Sara as the quiet, quirky girl with multicolored curls. Ryan had had a front-row seat as he watched Shane’s crush bud and bloom and shower its petals all over the workplace until he finally asked her out.

Since then, he’s learned that Sara is sweet and artsy and loves indie bands and dad jokes just as much as Shane does. She also seems to know Shane’s heart backwards, forwards, and upside down. Why she’s decided to trust Ryan with it too is...a lot to process.

This is something he’s never done. He doesn’t know a thing about how to start a sexual relationship with someone who’s already in one. Granted, any workplace poll would probably reveal the average joe thinks he and Shane have been an old married couple ever since they started hunting ghouls together, but there’s a big step between bickering and boning.

The occasional fantasy was one thing, but actually crushing on Shane was always something he refused to allow because of their status as coworkers and Shane’s status as very, very happily taken. Despite all outward appearances, Ryan is actually pretty good at compartmentalizing. He’s just such an open book most of the time that no one expects him to have hidden depths. Up until Shane wandered onto his Fetlife profile, that’s worked out well for him. 

There are only so many mental circles he can run in before he loses his mind altogether, so Ryan throws himself into bed and takes a nap. It’s surprisingly easy to make his brain stop ticking, but then, it’s been an intense past few days, what with all the traveling and ghost hunting and crazy personal revelations. 

Afterward, he takes a long, thorough shower and his thoughts leap right back onto the same track with a well-rested vengeance. At this rate, he’s just going to show up at Shane and Sara’s and immediately pass out.

He throws his towel in the hamper, then throws in the towel all over again and googles “dinner with potential polyamory partner” on the off chance someone’s made a mood board or a PowerPoint about this specific situation. Ryan does love a good informative PowerPoint.

Somehow he ends up scrolling through Y Tu Mamá También gifs and thirsting over baby Diego Luna. This is zero percent helpful, but it’s pretty nice.

He can’t help wondering what Shane is up to. Probably confiding every last detail to Sara, bringing her up to speed. Cleaning, maybe, trying to make their place look guest-friendly even though it’s just Ryan coming over like he has so many times before. But because this is very, very much not like all those other times, maybe Shane is going the extra mile, maybe there are going to be candles and shit, maybe dinner is just a euphemism and he should eat beforehand, maybe he should stop entertaining so many maybes. 

His roommates are both out having lives or some shit, so he can’t rope either of them into a nice distracting Xbox session, and checking his phone just makes him want to bombard Shane with a thousand questions. That just seems like bad manners, trying to pawn off some of his tension onto someone who already has plenty of his own. Also there’s just no way to ask _hey are we just talking or are things gonna get saucy_ without feeling like an idiot. 

When his phone lights up with a text from Shane (a bucktoothed emoji and _see you at 7_ ), Ryan has to WebMD symptoms of heart palpitations _._

 _I don’t know what to expect but I’m looking forward to it,_ he responds, entertaining the outlandish hope that Shane will magically set his mind at ease.

 _Be cool_ , Shane answers unhelpfully. 

_You wouldn’t know cool if it bit you on the ass,_ Ryan texts.

The reply is instant: _So be cool and bite me_

Ryan cracks up in spite of himself.

* * *

He dresses carefully before he leaves, involuntarily following the same rules he sets for himself before any hookup: jeans and a nice t-shirt, no buttons that could potentially get snapped off, no Buzzfeed merch that might give hints to his day job. 

It occurs to him that maybe he’s supposed to show up with a six-pack or a bottle of wine or something, but then he realizes whatever they’re getting into tonight might be best if it happened sober.

So instead he brings a box of grapefruit La Croix and promptly shoves it into Shane’s arms as soon as he opens the door. 

“We made fajitas!” Shane says proudly, holding it cradled in his arms like it’s a rectangular baby. “Prepare to kiss Chipotle goodbye after tonight, 'cause nothing’s ever gonna live up to this.”

Ryan doesn’t point out that he likes his Chipotle addiction right where it is, thanks. “Whatever you say, weirdo. They don’t even have fajitas there.”

“Exactly!” Shane proclaims, pointing a finger in the air. "And the chicken is 100% Obi-approved."

Sara materializes at his side. “Hey, Ryan.” 

Ryan grimaces and hopes it looks like a smile. “Hey. Good to see you.”

If Sara notices anything amiss, she graciously ignores it. “Come on, get yourself a plate. We’re eating in the living room, it’s cozier.”

For a little while, it’s all pretty normal. They fill their plates from the covered dishes of meat and veggies laid out on the coffee table, Shane has Alexa cue up a mellow playlist that seems to be mostly indie covers of 90’s hits, and they lounge on the couch with Shane in the middle. It might as well be one of a hundred other nights they’ve had Ryan over for dinner.

Then Shane goes and shatters that illusion by confirming Sara has indeed been brought up to speed. “So, uh. I told her. About all the stuff that happened and that we haven’t actually done anything, but…” 

The “ _I want to_ ” hangs unspoken between them.

“I don’t know what this is,” Ryan bursts out, his nerves trumping any attempts at self-censorship. “Is...is it like, just dinner or a business meeting or…”

Sara doesn’t seem flustered in the least. “Both, kinda. Just getting some stuff out in the open over fajitas. Until I go to meditation class. Then it’s up to you.” 

Ryan sets his half-eaten fajitas aside before he shatters the plate from gripping it so hard. “Up to us. Right. So this is a...preliminary date night?”

“It’s nothing you don’t want it to be,” she reassures him. “If you want to go home, or just talk, whatever you’re comfortable with, that’s fine.”

“And if you _don’t_ want to go home or just talk...” Shane adds, giving him a wink. He sounds like his normal sardonic self, but Ryan notices he’s eaten less than usual and has one of Sara’s hands in a death grip. “Let’s just say that’s fine too.”

Sara pops a sliver of roasted pepper into her mouth. “Just make sure to change the sheets if you make a mess.” Like Shane, she has a knack for saying wild things like they’re no big deal.

Ryan stares. “Noted.”

“First things first, though.” Sara gets serious, Shane’s hand releasing hers and moving to splay on her hip as she tucks her feet beneath herself. “Before you guys do anything too crazy, Ryan, you’re going to need to get tested. That’s non-negotiable.”

“Yeah, totally. I brought some copies of my latest results.”

Shane’s brows shoot up. “You what now?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo, big guy.”

“No.” Shane is looking at him like he’s seeing him in a whole new light. “No, it clearly is not.”

Ryan tugs a folded wad of papers out of his wallet. “I haven’t been with anyone since I had these done.”

“Cool,” says Sara, with an approving nod. “I have some stuff for you guys to look at too.”

“I knew there’d be a stack of paperwork to read through,” he jokes.

“Are you kidding?” Sara gives him an affronted double-take. “This is 2019. I compiled a bunch of resources and made a folder in Google Drive. I’ll be sharing the link with you...right about now, actually.” She digs her phone out of a magically concealed pocket in her leggings. “Unless you want to wait until after dinner? I just figured, y’know, it might be easier to talk about this while we’re all stuffing our faces. That way if anything gets uncomfortable we can just focus on the food.” 

Shane elbows him. “You okay with that? Green, red, yellow?” 

Busting out the traffic light check-in system over homemade fajitas is so unexpected and so perfectly Shane that Ryan has to laugh. “Sure, let’s get into it. Green.”

“Okay,” Sara says under her breath, giving a little nod as if she’s reassuring herself. “Just shared. Exhibit A: check that out first.”

The filename actually is Exhibit A. Ryan obligingly clicks it open. 

“Is this a freaking infographic?” Shane asks, looking up from his phone with disbelief written all over his face.

Sara sits up a little straighter. “Sure is.”

“There’s a Canadian Polyamory Advocacy Association?” Ryan can’t help himself. “Seriously?”

“God, it’s like you guys have never read anything before.” Sara giggles. “There is and they have some pretty informative graphics. There’s also the Polyamory Society, which is an American nonprofit, but their website is the ugliest effing thing I’ve ever seen. The point is, if you actually _look_ at this, there’s all these different configurations. See? There’s a difference between being someone’s primary partner--or nesting partner, which might be what they call it in Canada because I’d never heard before, but anyway that’s really fucking cute. Yeah. So there’s a difference between that and a...a full-on triad, or a V-configuration and whatnot. I feel like this is a good place to start.”

The whole time she’s speaking, her voice gets choppier and her cheeks get redder and redder. Ryan catches sight of Shane’s hand stroking over her side, up and back, in a slow soothing rhythm. As much as he feels like a dick for thinking it, he can’t help being a little grateful that Sara is just as jittery as he is.

She clears her throat and continues. “So. Ryan. I respect you very much as a friend and as someone who literally gets paid to put up with Shane.”

“Ouch,” Shane interjects mildly.

“But.” Sara meets his eyes, her face still flaming red. “Even though you have an objectively great butt and arms for days, I just...do not want to have sex with you at this point.”

Ryan blinks. “Thank you. I mean. No problem? Shit, sorry, is there even a correct way to respond here?”

“I think that’s fine,” Sara says in a rush, shooting him a shaky smile. “It just seemed really important to make that clear. There are a lot of misconceptions out there and not every triangle is equilateral.”

Shane pecks her on the temple. “You’re doing great. Math references and all.”

“Exhibit B?” Ryan lifts his phone.

Exhibit B is a brief but thorough rundown of the difference between rules and boundaries. There’s a lot of emphasis on the importance of taking care of yourself and your own comfort level before anything else, which is encouraging. It means they’re doing something right. 

“This isn’t something we decide all at once,” Sara explains. She sounds much steadier now. “It’s a process, it’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to work at and check in about on the reg.”

Exhibit C is a list of tips for responsible non-monogamy, and Exhibits D through G are all quotes and comics relating to polyamory. All together, it’s a pretty in-depth cornucopia of resources without being overwhelming.

“Where are you getting all this stuff?” Ryan asks.

“I have a Pinterest board,” Sara says airily.

“I didn’t know that either,” Shane says in an undertone when Ryan’s mouth falls open.

Sara half-smiles, adjusting her glasses. “When your boyfriend tells you he’s got a massive crush on his best friend, you have to educate yourself. And...okay, there _is_ a little paperwork,” she confesses, “but it’s kind of fun.” 

And with that, she hops to her feet. “I’ll go grab it while you clean up.”

“I feel like we just got played,” Shane mutters as they clear away the dishes. 

* * *

They’ve just finished stowing away the leftovers when Sara reappears holding a few translucent pages, which she passes to each of them. “It’s a checklist of stuff you’re into! Isn’t that cool?” 

Shane and Ryan exchange amused glances over her head.

“You fill in the circle if you’re comfortable giving or receiving or both,” Sara bubbles, clearly delighted. “You don’t have to do it right now, but whenever you do, use these.” She gives Shane a yellow highlighter and Ryan a blue one. “I printed these on tracing paper so when you’re done we literally see how they line up--when we put Shane’s page on top of Ryan’s, everything you have in common will turn green.”

Ryan gives both pages a skim as Sara continues. “There’s also some space for you to write in other stuff, like names you don’t want to be called or niche fetishes you think your partner should know about. So if you kink on, say, Shane dressing up as a sexy ghost, you can pencil that in.”

“I’ve got new ghouls, I count 'em,” Shane sings in the world’s worst Dua Lipa impression, and Ryan doesn’t for an instant consider walking out the door. Fuck, he’s got it bad.

“You said we don’t need to do it now?” Shane asks, looking a bit like he’s considering raising his hand.

“Nah, it’s pretty involved. But you might want to get started just to make sure you connect on the basics.” Sara leans over his shoulder and taps the first bullet on the list. “You told me you guys didn’t even kiss. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, but.” In the space of two words, Shane gets incongruously shy. “I mean. You weren’t there.”

Ryan holds up both hands, palms facing outward. “I’m not a homewrecker. I felt like I needed a permission slip.”

Now Sara looks positively incandescent. “You were saving your first kiss for me?”

Ryan is unable to suppress a smile. “When you put it that way, maybe? Kinda?”

“That makes us sound a lot more romantic and a lot less incompetent,” Shane mutters.

“Get over here,” Sara commands cheerfully, grabbing him by the hand and steering him back over to the living room. Ryan trails after them, completely not expecting it when Shane reaches out and grips his hand to tug him along. He lets him.

This time when they sit, Sara stretches out on her stomach and takes up a good half the couch. As a result, Ryan is tucked up much closer to Shane’s side than before. “She’s good,” he tells Shane in an undertone.

Sara doesn’t even pretend to look innocent. “Ryan, my dude, consider your permission slip signed.”

And he and Shane just blink at each other like a couple of idiots.

“Oh,” Sara sounds hesitant now. “Not that you have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m just saying, if you do want to, it’s okay. That’s what this is all about.”

“The poly hokey-pokey,” Shane says seriously, and Ryan would groan out loud if he wasn’t halfway to kissing him already.

Getting Shane to shut up just might be one of the most exhilarating feelings in the world.

* * *

It’s kind of a mess at first. 

The height difference is unfamiliar even though they’re sitting down, Ryan’s hand crushes around fistful of Shane’s shirt so hard the buttons end up gouging into his palm, and Shane’s hands struggle to settle in the right places because Ryan’s body is significantly different from Sara’s. But once they hit their stride, and do they ever, it’s the soft velvety heat of Shane’s tongue against his own, his palm hot between his shoulder blades, head tilting at the perfect angle for Ryan to slide his fingers into his hair. 

He’s breathing hard through his nose to keep from gasping against Shane’s mouth, still trying to accommodate the oddness of craning his neck in order to reach him, willing himself not to black out like a moron from the sheer mindfuckery of kissing Shane while his girlfriend looks on. And still, Ryan finds himself sliding his hand from the soft mass of Shane’s hair down to his nape, pressing there to keep him in place a little longer. 

There’s a glazed, dopey look in Shane’s eyes when they break apart.

“I can’t even look at your stupid face right now,” Ryan says, and kisses him again. Not so much to prove his point, just because he wants to and he _can_.

Shane’s mouth is so warm, his hands strong and gentle on his waist, thumbs rubbing there just short of slipping up under the hem of his t-shirt. It’s agonizing in the best way and makes Ryan squirm under him, trying to urge his touch higher.

“It’s okay if you want to take his shirt off.” Sara is apparently a mind reader. 

“Who?” Ryan and Shane ask in unison, sounding like a pair of confused owls.

Her lips part in a mischievous little grin. “Oh, whoever.”

It’s a running joke that Ryan likes to show off his body. He works hard on it and doesn’t generally mind who gets a glimpse as long as they’re not a huge creep about it. “I volunteer as tribute,” he says brightly, and strips off his t-shirt before Shane has a chance to respond. 

The look on Shane’s face is nothing short of reverent. 

“You’re hideous.” Shane’s voice is gratifyingly unsteady. 

Ryan preens, skin prickling into goosebumps under Shane’s gaze

The last guy he hooked up with had spanked him raw and slid his hot, pretty cock into his mouth until Ryan was sobbing around him. Somehow, just a few fully clothed kisses from Shane have him in almost the same state.

“Can we…” He fumbles to find the right words. It would be nice if they had some more room to maneuver, but maybe that’s too forward, maybe the bed is off limits. He steals a helpless glance at Sara from over Shane’s shoulder, hoping she’ll just read his mind again.

She bounces off the couch. “Gotta run, it’s meditation time. I’m going to open some chakras while you guys open your horizons.”

“Sara…” Shane says, and there’s a note of neediness in his voice that Ryan’s never heard before. 

They kiss, her hands gently cupping his face, smoothing through his hair the same way Ryan’s did as she bends down to reach him. It feels almost too intimate somehow, like he’s witnessing something he shouldn’t be, but Ryan can’t tear his eyes away. He’s seen them kiss before, exchanging casual pecks and touches like most couples do, but they’ve always kept it pretty chaste on the PDA front. 

Shane’s arms slide around her, his long hands eating up almost all the space on Sara’s back. From where Ryan’s sitting he can see the way his fingers flex, digging into her shirt like he’s willing her to stay there, to meld into him. 

“I’ll have my phone on me if you need anything,” she promises. “You’ll be fine, baby, I know you will.”

Slowly, incrementally, Shane lets her go, eyes flitting closed as he presses a final kiss to her cheek.

Sara draws herself up to her full height. The look she gives Ryan is half serious, half impish. “That goes for you too, by the way. Have fun and try not to break him.”

She’s out the door before Ryan can decide what to say to that.

* * *

At first, he’s worried things are all going to go to pieces without Sara mediating, that he’s going to be sitting shirtless beside Shane on the couch until she comes back from her class and thinks they’ve died.

Instead, Shane looks at him with a soft little smile quirking his lips. “Hey. I just want you to know, um, all that time I was perving on you, I wasn’t just being a creep. I was perving with a purpose.” 

Only Shane could say something like that and make it sound earnest.

“And what’s that?”

Shane looks shy again. It’s disgustingly sweet. “I want to make you feel good. I’ve thought a _lot_ about that purpose. Like, a crazy amount about it.” He pauses, seems to collect himself, like he’s trying to take a step back from the line he’s laid everything on. “Okay, so I’ve never used a...a violet wand or nipple clamps or anything, but I think I could probably still do an okay job.”

A sudden flare of affection kindles in Ryan’s chest. It seems important to soothe him; he’s not used to Shane being the nervous one. “Shane. Buddy. Trust me, I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

Ryan’s never been a morning person, but the look on Shane’s face is like dawn breaking through the clouds. 

“What do you want?” he asks gently, expecting Shane to hem and haw and make some dumb joke to minimize the intensity of the moment.

The answer is immediate and unexpected. “I want to take you to bed and make out and fall asleep with you, then wake up with you still there.” 

It’s not the response Ryan’s expecting, but there’s such naked emotion in it he never even considers being sarcastic.

“We can do that.” He waits a beat. “ _Just_ make out?”

Shane ducks his head, a laugh in his voice. “We can workshop that part.”

  



	2. Chapter 2

Bed, in Ryan’s informed opinion, is pretty nice. 

Shane’s bed--Shane and _Sara’s_ bed, holy fuck--is extra nice. It’s big enough to accommodate Shane’s ridiculously long limbs and then some, and there’s a small mountain of pillows on it that scatters gloriously when Ryan tackles Shane into them.

“Shut the door--cat--” Shane manages, sounding like the last thing in the world he wants is for Ryan to take a single step away from him. 

Ryan does it as fast as he can, slamming the door and leaving Shane momentarily illuminated by nothing but the gibbous moon glinting through the half-drawn curtains. It’s not a bad look on him, all stretched out and swathed in shadow, but this is a momentous occasion and Ryan wants to see every detail of it. 

“You good?” he asks, switching on the floor lamp beside the closet.

“Never better. Get back over here.”

Ryan obeys, but he doesn’t pounce on him this time. He’s deliberate, shifting until his knees are framing Shane’s thighs. He watches the bob of Shane’s throat when he swallows and has an almost overwhelming urge to press his mouth there.

“Still good?”

“Yeah. I’ll let you know if I’m not.” Shane’s voice is soft, the heat in it licking down Ryan’s spine.

“Okay,” Ryan whispers, unintentionally matching his tone. He hesitates, considers mouthing at Shane’s throat again, then runs a thumb down the pale line of it instead. Lingering in the notch between his collarbones, then lower, until he finds himself slowly, carefully undoing the first button on his shirt.

Shane’s lashes flutter. Ryan can hear the sharp spike of his inhale.

“Jesus,” Ryan murmurs. “Want me to st--”

“Keep going,” Shane blurts out. “Green as a field of daisies right here, I swear.”

Ryan pauses. “Did we just find out you’ve been colorblind all this time?”

“I couldn’t think of any green flowers. Call it a heat of the moment thing.”

“Most plants are green to begin with, you moron, you could’ve just--”

But he never gets to finish imparting this important piece of advice because Shane seizes a handful of his hair and crushes their mouths together.

By the time they draw apart, Ryan is ready to tell the whole color wheel to fuck off. 

“Keep going,” Shane urges him again, circling his fingertips against Ryan’s nape.

So he does, thumbing open each button until he can part the halves of Shane’s shirt as easily as unwrapping a present. 

His fingers slip inside, feathering and teasing, rubbing over a nipple until it hardens into a peak under the attention. He makes a quiet sound of approval when he brushes his nails across Shane’s stomach and feels the muscles tense up.

“You know how many times I got myself off thinking about this?”

“No,” Ryan says stupidly.

“Me either.” Shane arches, pushing his chest into Ryan’s touches. “Who the fuck keeps count of how many times they jerk off anyway? But trust me, it’s a lot.” He laughs, breath catching as Ryan gently rolls both nipples between his fingers. 

Shane’s hips are rolling upward, trying to seek out friction to rut against. His fingers have drifted from Ryan’s nape to trail patterns down his back, and Ryan sinks teeth into his lower lip as he sinks his hips down lower, mind going blank of everything except how those long clever fingers would feel pushing inside him, so deep and full and perfect.

“Show me what you thought about.” The words just fall out of him.

Shane’s lower body goes shoving up against him, almost enough to unseat Ryan from where he’s still straddling his thighs. “ _Fuck_ , Ryan.”

He sounds fucked out already, just from something as simple as getting a few kisses and having his shirt undone. Then Shane is wriggling up to him and engulfing him like a flame in human form--shucking off his shirt, hands everywhere, skin against Ryan’s too-hot skin, making him absolutely _insane_. Jeans snagged around his knees--when did that happen?--and Shane’s tongue is in his mouth again, Shane’s hands are all over him in long smooth strokes, leaving Ryan hard and gasp-hissing through his teeth.

“Careful what you ask for, man,” Shane murmurs into his ear, sucking the lobe of it into his mouth until Ryan’s eyes roll back in his head. Somehow he’s pinching Ryan’s nipples and gripping handfuls of his ass at the same time, so either he’s a secret sex mutant or Ryan is just losing his damn mind. Neither of these are as alarming as they probably should be.

Shane continues undaunted, but he does stop partway through getting his pants off, and that's kind of a shame, Ryan thinks, right up until he's being drawn in and kissed until he can’t tell which way is up. Shane’s kisses are all-consuming, soul-sparking affairs and he emerges from this one stretched out on his side in nothing but his boxers with one leg slung over Shane’s hip. Ryan has a brief intrusive thought about UFO abductions and missing time and sexy probe-happy aliens, then has to mentally shake himself because holy _shit_ is this ever not the time. 

He can see the outline of Shane's cock through his underwear, plain as day, and his fist squeezes around his own automatically, feeling the heat of precome soaking through the fabric. His other hand goes out, coasting down Shane’s bare side, finding purchase on the warm skin of his thigh, just below the leg of his boxers, and he can't help it. He touches him, just slightly, letting his fingers wander higher and higher under the cloth until they graze against the fullness of his balls.

Shane’s face crumples like he’s holding back a sob, or an orgasm. Ryan simultaneously can’t deal with this and wants to deal with everything.

When his fingers work their way underneath Shane’s waistband, Shane seems to have the same idea. His eyes are huge, hair damp against his temples as they get each other’s boxers bunched down around their thighs. Then those long fingers close around him and Ryan can barely breathe. Shane’s grip is tight, his thumb smearing through the slickness leaking from his slit, and it’s all Ryan can do not to fuck his hand until he comes then and there.

His head tips forward as he forces himself to slow down, bracing their foreheads together, so close he almost goes cross-eyed when he tries to look into Shane’s face. Shane’s eyebrows are drawn down, sweat glistening along his hairline, lashes flickering frantically as Ryan feels out the hot, solid length of him.

He can’t tell how long they go on like that, touching and learning each other, silent aside from their mingled panting. He only knows when Shane breaks it by groaning into his shoulder, a hot murmur of need that resolves itself into, “Wanna get my mouth on you.”

Ryan is nodding, gasping out something incoherent but affirmative. It must be enough because Shane’s glinting eyes slide shut, lashes flicking against his reddened cheeks, head dipping and lips parting…

Ryan’s fists clench in the bedcovers. 

Shane’s mouth sinks down, hot and satiny where it’s molded around his cock. Ryan’s body goes tensing and surging against him automatically, trying to ride into the feel of him. He can’t find a rhythm, but Shane splays a hand on his belly and guides him into it, taking him in so easily and obscenely it makes Ryan wonder where the fuck he picked up this particular skill _._

All he manages to choke out is, "Oh my fucking... _Shane_ ," but he thinks he gets his point across.

Shane is working his mouth feverishly, swallowing and sucking, sinking lower in order to take more of him into his mouth. Ryan can feel his cock filling even more, impossibly hot and hard, leaking a steady stream of precome onto Shane’s tongue. He makes a broken sound of loss when Shane cinches a hand around it and pulls off. His face nudges against Ryan’s stomach, mouthing wetly below the dip of his navel, then licking hungrily across it as his thumb skirts around the flushed head of his cock, rubbing over the little leaking slit there.

“ _Shane_ ,” Ryan groans again, thready. “Jesus Christ, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Oh dear,” Shane deadpans, because of course he has the presence of mind to be a dick while he’s sucking dick.

Even if Ryan had a retort ready, he wouldn’t have a chance to utter it because the next thing he knows Shane is taking him back in, smooth and easy.

He doesn’t stand a chance.

Shane exhales thickly around him, still stroking the base of his cock while he lavishes hard little sucks to the head. It takes a few tries, but Ryan detaches his fists from where they’ve been clutching the covers and grips a handful of his hair, tugs a little without meaning to. Shane writhes like he’s been shocked and lets out the most wanton, unexpected moan.

Ryan sobs and comes in his mouth.

It doesn’t seem to bother Shane in the least; he goes right on licking him through it. Ryan gives an experimental tug of his hair, toes curling when Shane makes a hot-urgent sound of want deep in his throat.

“I--” Ryan begins. “ _Ohh_.”

Shane lavishes one last good, hard suck to Ryan’s cockhead before he pulls back completely. Ryan gets a glimpse of a slick red mouth and half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so fuckin’ good at that,” Ryan tries again, but the words just dissolve into breathlessness.

Shane swipes the back of his wrist across his lips, hitches a brow at him, and ducks back down.

Ryan may never stop staring, may never need to look at another thing in his life after seeing Shane lap the come from his cock.

* * *

That’s a lie. 

There are so many other things to see. 

The way Shane’s mouth parts when Ryan explores his way between his thighs is very high on the list. 

“You like this?” Ryan asks. Touching gently, rubbing the tight little core of him. 

“Yeah,” Shane whispers, sharing a guilty secret.

“I bet you do.” 

There’s a maelstrom of questions he wants to ask, a tidal wave of answers he wants to hear. “Tell me something. What else do you like?”

He waits, petting his hole with a fingertip, barely brushing it.

Shane’s eyes squeeze shut. “S-sometimes I let Sara fuck me.”

“You let her? How generous of you.”

Shane smiles, teeth gritting as Ryan rewards him by stroking a bit more firmly. “I’m a generous guy.”

“What does she fuck you with?” Ryan curves a hand to the inside of one thigh, urging Shane to let them fall open even more. “The toy you took on the trip? That’s not your only one, is it?”

“Mm,” Shane hums in acknowledgement. “Nope. A guy’s gotta have options.”

“You must like that one, though. Maybe sometime you can fuck me while you’re wearing it.” He can imagine it, Shane sliding into him while he’s stuffed full and desperate.

Shane’s cock flexes, fat and full above his stomach, and his hole trembles like a tentative kiss against Ryan’s fingertip. “God _damn_ , Ryan.”

“Yeah,” Ryan croons, nuzzling a string of kisses from Shane’s mouth to his ear. He’s one orgasm down, his inhibitions are in tatters, and he has zero regrets. “I’m pretty into that idea. I’m pretty into a lot of ideas.” He kisses lower and lower, down the sweat-salted sweep of Shane’s chest to the hard nubs of his nipples.

“There’s lube in the drawer.” Shane flings out an arm. “Lemme just…”

“Uh-huh,” Ryan agrees dreamily. When Shane stretches to reach the night table, his body forms a long, pale curve across the bed. 

It’s an open invitation to touch and Ryan accepts greedily, palming down the pale expanse of his back, the crest of his ass, letting his fingers graze just slightly between the cheeks.

Shane swears.

“I don’t want to assume anything here,” Ryan says conversationally, “but something tells me you’re into this.”

Emboldened, he strokes his fingers a bit lower, working one just slightly into the hidden space between Shane’s ass cheeks. Shane blows out a rough exhale and goes pliant all over, like he’s trying to keep him there and urge him further. And there it is again, the mind-melting feel of Shane’s hole gripping hotly at his fingertip, a hint of that same tightness Ryan felt when he’d pressed at him before.

“Can you turn over for me?” Ryan asks. “Or if you’re too sensitive to--I mean--we don’t have to,” he adds, trying to be reassuring but stumbling all over himself. “But if it’s not too soon for you to…if you want me to...”

The moment shimmers between them, delicate.

“I can take it.” Shane’s voice is strained. “And yeah, I want you to.”

“Okay.” Nuzzling the crest of his shoulder, whisper-soft. “I want you to be nice and comfortable when I put my fingers in you, okay?”

A small, hurt-sounding noise pushes its way out of Shane’s throat.

Ryan lingers, sucking kisses into Shane’s freckled skin, watching the way it pinks up so nicely. “’Cause I’m gonna be slow and it’d suck if you ruined the moment by getting a cramp or something.”

“Very considerate of you,” Shane chokes out. He arches his neck, kisses wet and hungry at Ryan’s mouth, then shifts onto his hands and knees in a surprisingly graceful movement. “Get on with it before I do it for you.”

“I wouldn’t mind it,” Ryan says honestly. “I feel like you might, though. Maybe you should be a little nicer to me, huh?”

Shane shifts his knees wider apart and puts on an affected Fifty Shades-esque voice. “Please, Mr. Bergara, will you get me nice and wet and then finger-fuck me?”

Ryan accidentally squeezes about half a bottle’s worth of lube over his fingers.

He goes easy on him, sliding that first finger in as gently as he can, but it still has Shane quaking under him and letting out a strangled moan. No cheesecake factor this time, just broken-up sounds of genuine pleasure.

It makes Ryan want to keep touching him until he forgets to hold back.

For his part, that’s never been an issue. Ryan lives his life in a series of ongoing soliloquies no matter who the audience is. He talks to himself all the damn time and if anyone else has an issue with it, that’s their problem.

Shane doesn’t seem to have a problem it in the least. Ryan kisses up his spine, whimpering _oh my god_ over and over, and Shane just arches his back and shivers. “Fuck,” Ryan says, his voice brittle, “you’re so good, so fucking _warm_ in there,” and Shane practically melts into the bed.

Ryan bites carefully at his ear, keeping a slick, steady rhythm with his finger. “I wanna put another in you, can I do that?”

He barely hears Shane’s _oh hell yes_ over the throbbing of his own pulse in his ears, but it’s unmistakable. 

Ryan grits his teeth, pulls back his hand. There’s still lube left despite his faux pas earlier, and he drizzles more of it over his hand--can’t be too careful--coating them all over again. He rests his fingers just at the edge of Shane’s rim, letting him feel the tips of them barely breaching him, then slowly pushes them both inside. Easing in with two, slick and firm, stroking up inside Shane without even the pretense of teasing him anymore. 

Shane huffs out a shocked breath, then does it again when Ryan impulsively leans in and nips the apex of one ass cheek. The impulse to give him a little swat there is almost irresistible, not to mention exactly what Ryan would be craving if their roles were reversed, but Ryan is well aware that’s not the kind of thing you just spring on someone. 

Still, he’s drunk on the possibilities, cruising high on hormones and adrenaline. He feels like he could play with Shane like this for hours, teasing him and making him tense and tremble and drip, just from toying with the secret entrance of his body. Like he could make himself come just from relishing those desperate little sounds he makes and the slick, needy clasp of him around Ryan’s knuckles.

His words are getting away from him again, there’s no helping it. “So wet, so soft. Can I eat you out sometime? Would you let me do that?” 

As he watches, Shane’s stretched little hole clenches and spasms on his fingers in response. _Interesting_. 

Ryan can work with that, so he does. “I’d get you nice and slippery and then I’d put my tongue inside you, oh man, and maybe I’d have you get me off before I did it so you’d have extra incentive to treat me right, yeah? Sound good? And I know you would because you always treat me right even when you’re being a jerk, you always know how... ” He trails off as his hand slips down Shane’s flank, stroking the soft skin of his hip. “So hot, _fuck_ , Shane...I hope this isn’t too weird, but you’re so pretty like this.”

Shane shakes with laughter. “I’ve never been pretty a day in my life.”

“Shut up and let me be the judge of that. I saw you in that cheerleading uniform.” Ryan’s a little taken aback by the rawness in his own voice. He rests his forehead between Shane’s shoulder blades, fucking his fingers in as deep as he can, harder now, reveling in the hot, sudden squeeze of Shane’s body. “And I’m seeing you now. Trust me, you’re so fucking pretty.”

For emphasis, he curls his fingers, seeking. Shane lets out a plaintive moan, grinding down onto him, trying to fuck his hand. “So, _so_ pretty,” Ryan croons to him, fingering that sensitive little spot inside him with slick, deliberate pumps. 

“Ryan, oh shit, what the _fuck_.” Shane barely even sounds like himself anymore. With every push of Ryan’s fingers inside him, he makes needy, almost disbelieving little sounds, as if they’re being punched out of him. Ryan would be smug if he had the brainpower for it. “Shit, right there, right _fucking_ there.” 

Even with Shane facing away from him, Ryan can see the flush spreading down from his face, mottling his neck. "Oh, oh _fuck_." Breathless, heated, head lagging forward and arms trembling. By now, he can feel ever tremor as that goes racing through Shane’s body. 

Wetting his lips, eyes closing, blinking them open again slowly and staring where his fingers disappear into the dusky pink clutch of Shane’s hole. He’s so tightly clenched around him it makes Ryan dizzy, but he can’t tell if Shane’s on the same page. Sometimes penetration causes adverse reactions; he has to check in. 

"Shane...are you hard?" 

" _God_ yes." Thready, tremulous. 

"You like that?" Ryan is breathless now, shuffling closer, molding himself up against Shane’s curved back, smelling the familiarity of his aftershave and the salt of sweat. His fingers are making an obscene wet sound as they move in and out of him, harder, faster. Shane is pushing back now, nodding jerkily (“yesyesfuck _yes_ "), hips stalling and bucking, stalling and bucking, unsteady and uncoordinated, those thighs parted as much as possible.

"'s good,” Ryan slurs, taking himself briefly in hand, throat seeming to clench up along with everything else. Then he's pressing his other hand to Shane’s ass, spreading him open and smoothing the side of one thumb down the soft, vulnerable skin just beside where his fingers are sheathed inside him. Rubbing and teasing with his thumb at the edge of his hole, toying with the idea of slipping a third finger into him, pushing the very tip of it past that resistant clutch of heat.

It takes him a moment before he realizes that Shane is supporting himself with just one hand now. Arm tensed, curled in against his side, making an obvious rhythmic motion over and over. 

“ _Don’t,_ ” he whines. It seems unfair for Shane to jerk off facing away from him. “Wanna see you get off.” 

Shane laughs again. “Better let me turn over then, it’s not gonna take much.” 

“Right, yeah, like that,” Ryan agrees. And just like that, he’s pulling his fingers free and guiding Shane to flip onto his back so he can really _look_ \--and fuck, Shane is a sight. Cock all hard-red, belly streaked with glistening smears of precome. His mouth parts wide when Ryan pushes his fingers right back into him, no hesitation. 

The sounds Shane makes are positively hedonistic, shooting desire up and down Ryan’s spine. “Go on,” he prompts. “Touch yourself, lemme see you do it.”

Shane obeys and Ryan leans in to kiss him; it’s been too long since he lost himself in the heat of Shane’s mouth. His other hand cups Shane’s tightened balls, kneading and fondling them until Shane squirms down onto his fingers a final time. 

He knows the instant Shane starts to come because his mouth goes slack mid-kiss and he lets out a noise that’s right on the edge of being a whine. Legs spreading wider, body rippling and writhing as he orgasms around Ryan’s firmly pressing fingers. As Ryan watches, his eyes slide shut, shoulders rising and falling with a deep, leveling breath. 

Then he gives Ryan a beatific smile and goes absolutely boneless. 

Ryan eases back, watching Shane’s hole clench closed around nothing as his fingers slip free. 

Even though the evidence is undeniable, he can’t quite believe this just happened.

Surreptitiously, he scans the night table for tissues or something along those lines. Shane seems to pick up on this and produces a packet of wet wipes. 

“That,” he declares, lying spread-eagle among the mound of his and Sara’s displaced pillows, “was mind-blowing.”

“Hell yeah you were,” Ryan says. He’s already cleaned his hand and gotten it around his dick.

No one can blame him for getting turned on all over again after what just happened. He’s a high-energy twenty-something; it’s basically inevitable. 

“Jesus,” Shane breathes, “are you always this…”

“Easy?” Ryan hooks a grin at him. “Guess you’re gonna get to find out.” 

“I was going to say responsive, for the record.” Shane pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing a bit, and reaches for him. “C’mere.”

He finds himself straddling Shane’s hips again, but now there’s not a stitch of clothing in the way and he’s riding the hard curve of his cock against Shane’s slick stomach. It’s so good, an effortless feedback loop of pleasure. Shane steadies him with a hand on his waist as the other circles the base of his cock, warm and tight.

It’s too much. Ryan whimpers, hides his face in Shane’s shoulder as he jerks him off slow and wet. Too much, but also not even close to enough.

Shane twists his wrist and Ryan’s internal monologue stops being internal again.

“Smack it.”

Shane goes still. Ryan’s cock pulses, more fluid dribbling from his slit. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Ryan grips him tighter, hands slipping up the dampness of his back. Just the intensity of Shane’s eyes on him is making him tremble and leak. It’s unbelievable what this overgrown dork does to him.

“You want me to…”

“Hit my dick, I like it, I promise.” He’s practically begging. 

He takes Shane by the wrist, guiding his hot hand back and interlacing their fingers. “Like this,” Ryan urges, giving his hand a squeeze and then letting him go. “Please?”

He’s expecting Shane to protest and Ryan is more than prepared to convince him. So when Shane swallows audibly and lays a brisk, open-handed slap to the underside of his erection, it takes him completely by surprise. 

His cock slaps against his stomach, paints a smear of precome there. Ryan cries out, his entire body jolting.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Shane breathes.

“Again,” Ryan demands, shaky-voiced. “That was so good, do it again, you can go harder, I promise I like it.” Repeating it like a mantra, as if there isn’t ample evidence already

“Fucking masochist.” Shane sounds awestruck. “You really do.”

And he does it again.

Ryan throws back his head and yelps from the hot sting of it, muscles locking tight and his thighs trembling astride Shane’s lap. “ _Fuck_ , Shane-- _again_.”

Shane smacks him one more time and that’s all it takes. 

The air rushes from his lungs and everything disappears but the nerve-fraying bliss of his orgasm.

Ryan shudders through it, trying to blindly wriggle up against Shane’s body as he collapses into him. His muscles are screaming with release, cock pulsing stream after stream of come. It feels like he’s there forever, bucking between the burn of the slaps and the tight grip of his own touch. He's clutching himself and sobbing for air against the curve of Shane’s neck, his face feeling permanently stained with redness and heat.

Shane holds him as he rides it out, a steadying presence as wave after wave of pleasure hits him, each one next less intense than the last. And then Shane is gripping his ass in those strong, huge hands, using the leverage to haul him closer so his softening cock is rubbing a slick, hot line against the groove of Shane’s hip, just so, and that’s more than enough. Ryan cries out and surges against him. Even though he’s too oversensitive for it to feel good, he can’t stop frotting against Shane’s skin, slick with his own mess.

'S too much," he says, voice cracking. " _Please_."

Shane sucks in a sharp, sharp breath. Eyes rapt. He takes Ryan's face in his hands, wetting his lips. "Say that again, one more time for me, holy shit.”

 _“Please,”_ Ryan begs again, too far gone to keep himself in check. “Oh my god, fucking--fuck, _too much_.” There’s a sob just under the surface of his words.

“I got you, baby, shhhh,” Shane is soothing him, pressing kisses down his face, lying him down and wrapping him in his arms even thought the heat of their bodies is borderline unbearable. 

The endearment rubs along Ryan’s nerves like velvet long after he’s said it.

“You’ve got good hands,” he mumbles. It’s not the sexiest pillow talk, but whatever. His brain is functioning at about two percent right now.

Shane gives a sated laugh against his temple. “Thanks.” And he squeezes Ryan a little tighter, until a jaw-cracking yawn makes him loosen his hold. 

Ryan surveys him, bleary-eyed. “Is this the part where we fall asleep together? Because oh my god, I’m so here for that.”

He doesn’t catch Shane’s answer, but he assumes it’s fine.

* * *

Ryan wakes up acutely aware of just how many points of contact there are between their bodies. 

It might actually be easier to inventory the parts they _aren’t_ touching.

Shane is on his stomach beside him, an arm and a leg flung over Ryan. He’s a lot heavier than he looks for such a lanky guy. Ryan has to do some Cirque du Soleil level contorting to slide out from under him without waking him up.

He looks on, tracking the cadence of Shane’s back as it rises and falls with each breath, unconsciously matching his own to the same rhythm. The contrast between his skin and the deep rich blue of the blankets is stunning. Ryan has half a mind to snap a picture of him like this, but of course he doesn’t. It’s funny, his own scandalous pictures were a part of what led them here in the first place and now here he is thinking about starting a collection of Shane-centric ones. That’ll be an interesting conversation. 

Heart hammering in his ears, Ryan reaches to stroke Shane’s back, tracing the warm smooth length of it. Shane, contrary bastard even in his sleep, grunts and shifts until he’s lying face-up. 

“You’re such a loser,” Ryan informs him. 

But he can’t stop touching him, sweeping his palm over the sparsely haired expanse of Shane’s chest, rasp of his cheek, the softness of his belly. Ryan’s nose crinkles.

“Just so you know, I’m not trying to molest you in your sleep, but you’re kind of gross right now.” The wet wipes have gotten wedged between the headboard and the mattress. Ryan seizes them with a flourish. “Don’t be mad, though, a hot mess is still hot.”

Shane dozes right through it as Ryan carefully sponges him off, then does the same to himself. He doesn’t so much as twitch when Ryan’s stomach gives a truly impressive growl. Dimly, Ryan realizes he’s not sure what time it is or where his phone is, but those seem like such inconsequential details right now.

He snags his discarded boxers off the floor and slides off the bed to step into them. Shane sleeps on, cock soft and smooth against his thigh, skin glistening with wetness from the wipedown Ryan just gave him. Once again, the urge to capture the moment in a photo is overwhelming. 

Ryan slips out the bedroom door, careful to leave it ajar. He desperately needs to chug a few glasses of water, maybe snag one of his grapefruit La Croix from the fridge.

It doesn’t even occur to him that the fridge is in the kitchen, and that in order to get to the kitchen he has to walk through the living room.

And there in the living room, perched on the sofa wearing a massive set of Bose headphones and apparently deep into a playthrough of Mass Effect 3, is Sara.

He’s not sure why this is such a gobsmack of a revelation. He and Shane have been at this for a while now and Sara wasn’t going to hang out at guided meditation all night. And she does, after all, _live_ here.

It’s not too late to ninja his way out of this. He turns to sneak back into the bedroom, appalled at the idea of doing a walk of shame past her in her own home.

Sara, psychic that she is, takes off her headphones. “Shane?”

Ryan makes a strangled sound in the back of his throat.

Sara turns around and gives him a once over, making Ryan wish he’d put on more than just underwear before venturing out. Her curls are damp at the ends like maybe she showered at the gym. Apparently she’s been home for a while. “Hey. You wear him out?” 

Ryan blushes to the roots of his hair. “Um.”

“Ryan,” she says patiently. “You just fucked my boyfriend. Don’t look so embarrassed about it.” 

That just makes Ryan blush as much as humanly possible short of spontaneously combusting.

“ _Did_ you fuck him?” she asks

Involuntarily, Ryan glances down at his right hand.

Sara’s eyes widen knowingly. “Oh, _nice_. He loves that.”

Ryan smiles a little in spite of his embarrassment. “He...kinda did, yeah.” He fixates on where Obi is curled up on the couch arm, shy again even though he suddenly knows exactly what he wants to say. “Do you wanna...show me what other stuff he likes sometime? Maybe?”

She arches a brow. “It seems like you’ve got that all figured out.”

“You’ve got way more experience.”

“That’s true, honorary degree and everything.” Sara looks pleased. “We talked about having him wear a plug, you know, but he was already so tense and he already kind of sprang that on you once.”

Ryan’s brain goes offline for a minute. “Oh wow. Yeah. Maybe some other time.” Which is so presumptuous he could smack himself for it, but Sara just smiles at him with genuine warmth. 

“He’s still sleeping, isn’t he?”

“Like a rock,” Ryan confirms. He hesitates. “You want to come see him?” It feels weird, like he’s giving her permission to see her own boyfriend in her own room, but Sara doesn’t seem offended at all. She beams at him and bounces off the couch in a heartbeat, making Ryan’s own heartbeat do a strange little flutter.

“We didn’t change the sheets,” he warns, following her back to the bedroom. “I know you said we should do that if we, uh…”

“I’ll live.” Sara slides onto the bed and tucks herself against Shane’s side in one easy motion. Shane makes a small contented sound and seems to relax even more, subconsciously responding to her presence. Ryan feels like he should look away and doesn’t ever want to look away.

“Ryan,” she says, and reaches out a hand to him. “Get in here.”

He curls up against Shane’s other side and feels something tight and vulnerable slide into place inside him.

They lie there for several long, honey-slow minutes, Shane still out like a light between them. Ryan’s hand tentatively rests against the peak of his hip, soaking up the warmth of him. Sara’s arm is draped over Shane’s side, the back of it grazing Ryan’s bare stomach.

Belatedly, he realizes she’s spooning him and Shane is the little spoon. There’s a grin overtaking his face before he knows it, a molten core of euphoria bubbling inside him. He could lose himself in this offbeat brand of domesticity, he really could.

Then his stomach growls again, dragging him back down to earth. 

“Right,” he mutters, half to himself. “So I was gonna get something to drink and head out.”

Sara pushes herself up onto one elbow and regards him over Shane’s shoulder. “We’re not going to make you go home tonight, you know.” 

Ryan stares.

“Unless you want to,” she amends. “This isn’t a hostage situation. But... _do_ you want to?” 

“I…” Ryan’s throat closes up. 

“There’s an extra toothbrush and contacts case in the bathroom. And we’ve got all this leftover fajita stuff because you guys were too focused on deflowering each other to eat as much as I thought you would.” Sara rolls her eyes. “You need to work on your priorities, just saying.”

“Besides,” she adds softly. “Do you really think Shane wants to wake up and realize you’re not here?”

The euphoria surging through Ryan’s veins cools into something softer, something sweeter and less frenetic. He looks down at Shane’s sleeping face, stroking his hair back from his eyes. “He said he wanted to wake up with me.” 

“Okay then,” Sara says, like it’s just that simple. “Let’s let him.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over at makemadej.tumblr.com if you want to send me writing prompts or gif requests or what have you!


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